


In a Smoke Filled Room

by GhostlyDivine



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Basically The Hollow Knight gets the hug they finally deserve and everything is ok! :), Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Just from The Hollow Knight’s thoughts and feelings, Kinda warnings for some suicidal type of stuff but still very canon-typical, Not a Pale King did nothing wrong fic, pretty much a vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:54:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22865293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostlyDivine/pseuds/GhostlyDivine
Summary: The Hollow Knight’s reflections on their situation are interrupted.
Relationships: The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & The Pale King
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67





	In a Smoke Filled Room

**Author's Note:**

> Ok this is very self-indulgent and essentially everything is just to circle around the comfort scene since I wrote that as some kind of vent. I also don’t have access to a computer and use mobile only so I hope you can forgive any formatting problems. 
> 
> I’ve had the imagery of this happening in my head since I found out about their cut dream nail dialogue and it destroyed me, so! Have fun gamers!  
Team Cherry please give me DLC where The Hollow Knight gets a hug and all the vessels are adopted by the Nailmasters and other nice NPCs. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

How long had they been hanging by these chains? They don’t know. Infection drips from a crack in their mask and from their shell to the stone below in steady drops. The cavern has long been filled with the sickly sweet stench of the infection. Their cloak tattered and torn with age, an arm rotted off long ago. Theironce brilliant nail, old and rusted, stuck in the ground below. 

The voice of the Old Light rages within them, leaving every path in their mind drenched in brilliant, blinding, searing light and flame. It’s been long since they’ve tried to stop it. They were no longer strong enough to fight it. They failed. They know they failed and they know that even the fact alone that they know means they failed long ago. This is their punishment. They think about how its what they deserve, and the grasp of the Radiance remains steady. The Kingdom of Hallownest lays in ruins by now for all they know and Father must be so, so angry and disappointed and remind themself do not think, do not feel, do not speak, do not hope, do not, do not, do not... 

Their thoughts are interrupted by the deafening sound of rocks breaking apart and seals opening rumbling through the temple. Then silence. Then... footsteps? Light footsteps heading towards the cavern. They don’t move. They wait for whatever was coming, cocooned in their chains. The grip of the Old Light grows anxious, but its voice grows stronger.

“**THEY COME TO SUFFOCATE OUR LIGHT IN DARKNESS, BE WARY AND ON GUARD, AND I WILL FIGHT FOR YOU**” 

A small figure enters the cavern. The Hollow Knight turns their head, ever so slightly to follow their movements. They step towards the ancient chains binding them so tightly- and begin striking them. One by one, becoming looser. They think they recognise the figure but quell that thought immediately. 

The sound of the last chain holding them up snapping echoes through the chambers and they crash to the ground like a doll thrown aside. The light within them drains for a split second, allowing them to get a better look at the figure who freed them. 

Their sibling. 

Here to take their place and they feel so, so grateful yet so, so afraid for what may come to them, but they are tired. 

They remember them following them out of the Abyss. Clinging to the ledge where Father chose and lead them out, bestowing their fate upon them. A wave of guilt crashes over them. For their failure, for the knowledge of their siblings, for Hallownest... They extinguish them. They cannot feel, they cannot think, not now. They have to contain it just a little while longer. 

Yet with that, its hold on them comes back stronger, burning through their mind and carapace, Infection leaking from them like rotten honey.Its voice tears through their throat where sound was never supposed to travel through and it hurts. It aches and burns and _hurts_ but they no longer have control of their body. 

The Radiance uses their arm to reach for their nail.

“**DISPOSE OF THIS LITTLE SHADOW, PROTECT OUR LIGHT**” 

They swing their nail in long, sweeping motions. They parry and riposte. They dash to stab. They do this over and over again and they tire. When they tire the Old Light grows more tenacious and ferocious and infection bursts out of them. It tosses their lanky body around like a broken puppet. 

Briefly, when they collapse and get a hold of themself they can remember Father. They remember standing on the balcony of the White Palace with him and wanting so badly to hear any kind words from him.They think they saw pride or warmth for a split second in his eyes that day, but they’ll never know for sure. 

They remember the small, red-cloaked child of Deepnest running around the palace, enthralled by their height and wanting to spar with them so badly.

Then, a pain flows through their chest. A different pain. Not the sharp, burning pain of infection but a dull ache. Something different, something hidden and buried deep, deep within them. They just want to be free. They want to tell their father that they’re sorry. They want to stand before Hallownest and attone for their unforgivable sin of failure. Of being impure. 

They struggle to stand up again, their legs weak. The Radiance tries and tries to regain a solid grip. When they raise their nail high, it tries to move their arms to stab at the Little Ghost. Thoughts and memories swirl around in their mind and- and they bring their nail down into their own chest. They stab, as deeply as they can, right up to where it would be too wide to go through anymore and they do it again and again. Infection spews out from their carapace and they collapse to the ground again, memories and dreams twisting into one and enveloping their mind.

_ Father....?  _

They awake to white light surrounding them. Not the warm, yellow-orange glow of The Radiance but cold, pure, white light. The figure of the Pale King of Hallownest walks towards them in their dream. They try to stand and kneel, to do whatever they can to convey that they’re sorry, that they’re so, so, deeply sorry and that they’re ready to accept any punishment there is. They bow their head deeply, their long horns no longer looking as proud as they once did. 

They brace themself for whatever the King would bring upon them but instead, they find a hand lightly pressed against the side of their mask and a thumb rubbing it gently before being enveloped in an embrace. They stay completely and utterly still, as if made of nothing but the same stone as their statue in the City of Tears for a moment before their shoulders begin to shake. Their breaths stop completely before hitching and they collapse even from their kneel. They curl onto the ground, unable to do anything but shake and cry voicelessly, big tears of void streaming from their mask like waterfalls and black pearls. 

They cry and cry and cry, hundreds of years worth of tears wrack their thin and fragile body. They want to be able to speak, to tell him how sorry they are still. To tell him how much they’ve suffered and how hard they tried. To please, please let them come home to be with him or to let them die so they can be at peace. 

The Pale King doesn’t speak the entire time either, just rubbing their back in circles and holding them, until a quiet, calm but monotone voice comes out of him-

“I am sorry, you were not as pure as I had judged you to be. I have failed you. May you find peace, and be freed from your chains.” 

The dream begins to fade out and they feel a wave of panic crash over them. No, no. No! They want to stay here, why can’t they stay here! Please, please, they want to yell but their voice was never there. 

They awake again to the noxious caverns of the temple, and the sudden flash of a red-cloaked figure flying towards them as something sharp wedges itself in the crack of their mask and brings them more searing pain. Silk ties them down and they hear a familiar voice shout and the Little Ghost rushes in front of them and draws an ethereal, glowing nail before they’re thrown back into a dream again. 


End file.
